


i should know you as well

by officiallykris



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Jooheon is here just not here, M/M, No Graphic Sexual Content, Probably not though, just talk of it, kihyun might be a sympathetic character?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officiallykris/pseuds/officiallykris
Summary: "He lost control over this, over them, a long time ago."
Kihyun lies about the rules he breaks throughout his experience with the conflict of nature versus nurture.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i read somewhere that one of MX's managers was named Hongshik. if not, oh well.

 

 

 

Kihyun is halfway through his second cigarette by the time Hoseok finds him.

 

“Doubt this is what anyone had in mind when you said you were going out for some air,” Hoseok says, leaning his hip against the parapet of the studio’s rooftop only a few short inches from where Kihyun is perched atop it. His fingers slide beneath Kihyun’s on the filter of the cigarette and Kihyun lets him take it, purposely doesn’t watch him bring it to his own lips.

 

Kihyun shrugs and says, “I never said that air would be unpolluted.”

 

He’s supposed to be quitting, has promised his vocal coaches and their managers that he doesn’t, quote, “do that shit anymore.” He knows it’s fucking his voice up, is the reason his rehearsal times have almost doubled lately due to the amount of times he’s had to break in between takes to clear the crud from his throat. He doesn’t even want to think about how he’s definitely gonna crack once or twice under the pressure of high notes and complicated runs onstage. And forget adlibbing. If it ain’t practiced, it ain’t happening.

 

“You’re lucky _I_ found you and not Hongshik-hyung,” Hoseok tells him. “He’s looking for you, you know?”

 

“What a surprise.”

 

“He thinks you’re a troublemaker,” Hoseok passes the cig back with a smile, voice strained from keeping the smoke in his lungs as long as possible before blowing it through pursed lips over Kihyun’s shoulder. He’s considerate like that, doesn’t like to exhale in Kihyun’s face. Kihyun wants to punch him.

 

He kicks his leg out at his knees instead, and is unsurprised when one of Hoseok’s hands flies up to grip his arm to keep him from toppling over the edge and down to the ground six stories below them. He knows he’s making Hoseok nervous, that he should move away from the ledge so he isn’t the cause of a fatal heart attack. But there’s something in him that wants to lean even further back, away from safety, just to see if Hoseok would follow him. But he makes himself go easily with Hoseok’s impatient tugging, until his feet are back on solid concrete and the wall is behind instead of under him.

 

It puts them at an even closer proximity, and Kihyun can smell Hoseok’s hair products even over the scent of burning tobacco. They aren’t exactly the same height, but Hoseok isn’t so much taller that he towers over Kihyun. Still, Kihyun feels small standing next to him, like Hoseok’s presence is bigger than his physical body.

 

Kihyun takes another steady drag off the cig and passes it back, says, just to keep talking, “You should pierce your lip.”

 

“You liked that, huh?” Hoseok asks, lips curling at the corner where there’s still a trace of adhesive stuck to his skin. The fake metal ring had been removed sometime during Kihyun’s stolen cigarette break, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t already miss the stupid thing. He _had_ liked it, just like he likes Hoseok’s real piercings, the ones Hoseok doesn’t show to the public. And the one only Kihyun knows about. The thought of it makes his mouth water and his eyes drift downward involuntarily.

 

And this is why he’d come up here to begin with. Because watching Hoseok pose for the photos for the new album jacket was torture, his kohl-lined eyes too sharp, his cropped sweater showing far too much of the jutting angle of his hip bones. Because his hair is still styled up and away from his face, blue-tipped blonde and wrecked like it would get if Kihyun grabbed at it the way he wants to. Because anymore, if he spends any length of time this close to Hoseok, his mind wanders into dangerous territory. And he can never count on Hoseok to steer it in any other direction.

 

Like now, as Hoseok uses his grip on Kihyun’s arm to steer them back away from it, where he doesn’t have to pretend he isn’t shaking in terror from their height above the ground, and he can push Kihyun up against the wall to the stairwell entrance. He doesn’t waste any time in getting a knee between Kihyun’s thighs, but he doesn’t move it up, just lets it rest there. Like a reminder.

 

Like Kihyun needs to be _reminded_.

 

“Is that what you really came up here for,” Hoseok asks, voice dropped to a low whisper, lips right up against the shell of Kihyun’s ear, “to think about my piercings?”

 

Kihyun tries not to shudder. He fails.

 

To recover from the shame he scoffs, “You wish.”

 

“I’ll get it done,” Hoseok says without missing a beat, smirking because he thinks he’s got the upper hand. And _fuck_ , Kihyun thinks, maybe he does. Maybe he always has.  “I’ll pierce my lip for you, if you want. But you gotta do something for me too.”

 

“And what would that be,” Kihyun asks, trying to sound annoyed and not at all as interested as he really is. Because when he thinks about it, when he stops pretending and starts being honest with himself, he knows he’s interested. Way too interested.

 

Hoseok knows it too.

 

There’s a smile on Hoseok’s lips. Kihyun can feel it against his skin when Hoseok’s head dips lower to mouth at his neck. That knee moves upwards now, just enough so that Hoseok’s thigh presses right where Kihyun doesn’t want it-- _except he does, he wants it so fucking bad_ \--and Kihyun has to consciously keep from grinding against it. He gasps, eyes screwed shut, when Hoseok says, “Let me do your tongue.”

 

Through gritted teeth, he retorts, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

 

He’s trying to keep some composure here, trying to sound condescending and annoyed, trying to talk to Hoseok the way he does to anyone else. But that’s impossible. Even if his voice still sounds like his own, his body is being controlled by some other force. He knows, vaguely, in that weird disconnected way he goes through the motions of dance routines memorized long ago, that he’s started to move against Hoseok, pushing forward until Hoseok’s hip bone is pressing into his stomach just a little. He’s seeking friction that he doesn’t remember allowing his body to want.

 

And he can imagine it, the sharp sting of the needle puncturing his tongue, the weight of warm metal an ever-present reminder of the one that put it there. It’s such a possessive gesture, offering to permanently mark him, like Hoseok wants to own him and let everyone know it. The whole thing is so proprietary that it should disgust him. But all it does is make him hot and breathless and wanting.

 

“I think you’d like it just as much as I would,” Hoseok says, matter-of-fact like they’re having a normal conversation, like he isn’t gripping Kihyun’s side and pulling him in close, encouraging Kihyun to keep thrusting against his muscled thigh until he’s coming in his own jeans. “Your oral fixation is pretty obvious, babe.”

 

“Fuck you,” Kihyun growls, shocked that his voice has gotten so rough.

 

“Please?”

 

The whispered plea makes him gasp. Hoseok just laughs, soft and throaty, and he pulls away so he can take one last hit off the cigarette before tossing it to the ground. Kihyun had almost forgotten about it, mind too messed up and preoccupied with the thought of fucking Hoseok, maybe right here on the roof, how Hoseok would probably let him reverse their positions and fuck him against the wall.

 

And then his mind goes blank as he feels a hand slide through and tighten in his hair and his head is being wrenched back so Hoseok’s lips can slot over his own. He can’t help his sharp inhale, mouth opening instinctively when he feels Hoseok’s tongue push between his lips and lick across the roof of his mouth. That’s when he realizes Hoseok is still holding the smoke in his lungs, because he breathes out and it floods into Kihyun’s mouth and down his throat, thick and stinking and invading. He’s suddenly choking on it, chest stuttering painfully.

 

So much for being considerate.

 

It’s almost impossible to tear his mouth away, Hoseok’s grip on his hair so tight he can barely move his head, but he manages in the end to pull back so he can cough against Hoseok’s chest. And the fucker is laughing again, just a low chuckle, like suffocating Kihyun is mildly amusing to him. Kihyun would be livid if he wasn’t trying to work through the dizziness and dangerous buzz of arousal borne of pain. He’s never been very good at differentiating it from pleasure.

 

“Hoseok,” he whispers, and if his voice was rough before, it’s fucking wrecked now. His fingers clutch at Hoseok’s sweater, nails digging in, like his body is still trying to find some kind of anchor in Hoseok, even though his chest is aching and his breath still gets caught up in his throat on every other forced inhale.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” he says, anger forcing it’s way through the pleasure-pain and making him lash out in small, vindictive ways. He doesn’t call Hoseok _hyung_ , not often. He did at first, just like he still does with Hyunwoo much of the time, but the two of them have gotten so close that it feels strangely formal to use anything but Hoseok’s name.

 

But he knows what it does to Hoseok to hear it every once in awhile, how it gets Hoseok hard and impatient. Kihyun is still fighting, still looking to gain some control of this, even though he’s just barely keeping himself upright on trembling knees and that drag in his lungs has turned into a pleasant hum of warmth.

 

He lost control over this, over _them_ , a long time ago.

 

He honest-to-god whimpers when Hoseok lifts his head up by his hair, his lips already parted for Hoseok’s tongue when Hoseok kisses him again. This time it’s much less violent, softer and almost apologetic. It’s familiar, even though they haven’t actually done this too many times before. But kissing Hoseok has always felt a little like coming home, like they should have been doing this a lot longer than they have been. He lets Hoseok guide him through the kiss, relieved by the knowledge that he isn’t the only one affected here, responding by sucking on his tongue, his lips, unable to stop the high whine that builds in his throat when Hoseok scratches at the back of his neck with blunt nails.

 

He’s so lost in it all he doesn’t even hear the door to the stairwell swing open.

 

Hoseok must hear it though, because he jumps away so fast Kihyun has to catch himself with a hand against the wall before his knees give out from under him. Disoriented, he blinks several times to clear his vision, and he sees a string of people file out onto the roof not two feet away. Changkyun is one of them, and he makes a beeline for Kihyun as soon as their eyes lock.

 

God, Kihyun forgot he was even here. He forgot everything there for a moment.

 

“What are you losers doing,” Hyungwon asks, tugging at the neck of his sweater and looking between Kihyun and Hoseok. He sounds genuinely curious, and it makes Kihyun’s lungs work a bit easier.

 

“Smoking, probably,” Minhyuk answers for them, disappointment clear in his tone.

 

“Thought you were quitting,” Hyunwoo says, looking only at Kihyun, like he’s accepted Hoseok’s rehabilitation to be a lost cause. If only he knew.

 

“He is,” Changkyun pipes up, his smile soft, too caring, too trusting. It makes Kihyun’s stomach turn in painful loops, “it just takes time, right, babe?”

 

“Right,” a whisper is all Kihyun can manage, relief flooding his veins when Changkyun leans in to press glossed lips against his temple.

 

They weren’t caught. He wasn’t caught.

 

Changkyun looks mildly suspicious though, when he pulls back and rests next to Kihyun against the wall.

 

“Are you okay,” he asks, low enough only the two of them can hear. Kihyun thinks it might say something about them that he isn’t immediately grateful for the privacy. Probably it says everything about them.

 

Changkyun’s fingers find their way into Kihyun’s hair in a grossly inaccurate parody of Hoseok’s before. He’s too gentle, stroking instead of grabbing, asking to touch instead of just taking what he wants.

 

“Of course,” Kihyun answers, trying to laugh off his discomfort, “why?”

 

“You’re all flushed,” is the response, accompanied by Changkyun brushing his knuckles along Kihyun’s cheek.

 

It’s not instinct to lean into it, to let Changkyun feel him out, to readily allow this kind of intimacy after so many months, but it’s a near thing. Where Hoseok is familiar in an entirely innate fashion, Kihyun has had practice getting to know Changkyun, and his responses now come automaticallly where they might not have at the very beginning. What he has with Changkyun is a good thing.

 

It’s just that what he has with Hoseok is _better_.

 

It doesn’t stop the guilt from eating away at him every time he has to lie to Changkyun. And anymore it feels like that’s all he’s doing, lying.

 

“It’s just hot,” he says, knowing that his words will be taken at face value, and swallowing back the shame that ignites within him for the fact.

 

It’s involuntary that his eyes flit over Changkyun’s face with no real constant connection, only to swerve naturally to meet Hoseok’s gaze dead on over Changkyun’s shoulder. And that shame burns brighter with the knowledge that Hoseok is watching him, always, never too far away now, never without reach.

  
It’s only a matter of time that everyone notices Kihyun watching Hoseok back.

**Author's Note:**

> thx for reading.  
> hope everyone enjoys.


End file.
